yard raze there's a piece of earth northwest from where i like to stand that holds the bodies of those i've loved and lost and been lucky or unlucky enough to lay to rest. whatever might be left of them now lies among the roots and shoots and rocks and dirt. four friends have been buried here. i know there are bound to be more. it's only one small corner of the cage i call mine, but this is where my eyes seem to want to take me lately. as if staring at the soil that's ensnared my dead friends might make them live again. 240825 what's it to you? who go blather from